


A surprise encounter; or, What Watson Didn't Say In His Memoirs

by TitusOates



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M, Smut, sorry ACD, what else can i say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 19:02:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4798835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TitusOates/pseuds/TitusOates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enigmatic chemistry student Sherlock Holmes follows our favourite army doctor back to his hotel on the Strand for an X rated romp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A surprise encounter; or, What Watson Didn't Say In His Memoirs

Dr Watson said good-bye to Stamford and strolled on to his hotel, his head full of Sherlock Holmes, the young chemistry student he had just met at Bart’s Hospital.  The man was an enigma – how was it that he came to know so much about everyone else, whilst maintaining such mystery with regard to his own affairs?

Yet he hadn’t seemed secretive; he had talked at great length, about chemistry, crime, his own bad habits… A faint smile played across Watson’s lips as he remembered.  “It's just as well for two fellows to know the worst of one another before they begin to live together,” Holmes had said, without the smallest trace of irony.  He was definitely something of an eccentric.

Watson had been capitvated by his enthusiasm, they way his eyes had sparkled and two pink spots of joy had appeared on his cheeks, as he seemed to imagine unveiling the “Sherlock Holmes Test” before the Royal Society.  With his large nose and hollow cheeks, Holmes was not at all conventionally handsome, and quite unlike the muscular young officers that had stirred Watson’s loins back in the Northumberland Fusiliers.  Still, thought the doctor, as he let himself into his hotel room: there was something undeniably sensual about him.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, took off his tie and imagined what it might feel like to be caressed by those long, delicate fingers.  His penis began to lengthen and thicken in his trousers, and he started to stroke it gently through the woollen fabric.  He let out a yearning sigh; it had been so long since anyone else had touched him there.

He was interrupted by a sudden, sharp knock on his hotel room door.  He dropped his hand guiltily and called out, “Yes?” in a somewhat strangled voice.

The door opened, and Sherlock Holmes himself entered the room, closing the door quickly behind himself.  He paused for a moment to survey the room.

“Hmph,” he said.  “This is nice. It’s no wonder you ran out of money.”

Watson, who until this point had been paralysed with shock, finally found his tongue.

“What is the meaning of this?  What are you doing here?” he stammered.  His heart was pounding and his cheeks glowed with embarrassment.  This man had known immediately that Watson had been in Afghanistan, and if what Stamford said was true, seemed to be able to read people’s thoughts.  Watson hoped dearly that it wasn’t true in his case.

“I followed you,” said Holmes, staring at Watson with an odd expression.

“I see,” said Watson, weakly.  “Why?”  A creeping fear was also starting to mingle with his embarrassment.  What if the man was some kind of maniac?  He had such a strange, intense glint in his eye.

“I thought,” said the chemistry student, removing his coat whilst still looking hard at Watson, “I thought that – since I am attracted to you – and you are so clearly attracted to me – we might not wait until tomorrow afternoon to be alone together.  And since tomorrow we will probably be rather busy with unpacking and other such practicalities.”  He gave a little conciliatory smile. 

Watson’s eyes were so wide he thought they might roll out of his head any moment. 

All he managed to say was, “What?”  His throat was completely dry.

Holmes began to approach the bed, letting his gaze rake over Watson’s body in an openly lustful manner.  “Are you so shocked?” he murmured. “I saw how you were looking at me… It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it?”

Watson gulped and nodded helplessly, and Holmes began unbuttoning his waistcoat, his expression calm.  By now, the doctor’s penis was almost fully erect, and straining uncomfortably against the buttons of his trousers; yet his sense of propriety had not completely left him; he grasped Holmes’s wrist.  It was thin and delicate like the rest of his bone structure, but further down Watson could feel hard, sinewy muscle.  A mass of contradictions.

“Wait,” he said, catching his breath.  “What are you doing?  Are you mad?”

 “Perhaps,” Holmes said with a wicked smile.  “Does it turn you on?”

The doctor tried to look stern.  “What if I called the police right now?”

“You wouldn’t.”

Watson sighed, defeated; of course he wouldn’t.

“Still,” he said.  “I am inclined to think –“

“Then don’t,” said Holmes, and kissed him.

The sensation was dry and soft, and tinged with the deep, slightly acidic aroma of turkish pipe tobacco.  Whatever thoughts of propriety had been in Watson’s head a moment ago quickly dissolved in the wave of raging desire that engulfed him.

“Oh God,” he groaned into Holmes’s mouth, and pulled him closer.  Holmes pressed against him, and the feel of his erection against Watson’s leg excited him so much that he felt a little pre-ejaculate seep from his own cock.  The loneliness and frustrations of the past few months seemed to surge up inside him as he kissed Holmes hungrily, grasping at his shirt as if to rip it in his desire to feel the chemist’s pale flesh against his own.

Holmes broke off the kiss momentarily to free them both of the cumbersome waistcoats and shirts.  Watson was a little surprised by the slight tremor in his hands.  Those long, white fingers that had been so sure in the chemistry lab, seemed uncertain and a little clumsy in the bedroom; he was as desperate as Watson was. 

Under his shirt, he was as Watson had imagined: pale, hard and smooth, with the outline of his sternum and ribs clearly visible between the plains of muscle.

“God, you’re beautiful,” breathed Watson.  Holmes raised a derisive eyebrow, but he seemed pleased, and a faint flush appeared on his cheeks.

His long fingers travelled up Watson’s broader chest and became enmeshed in the thick thatch of hair there, before pushing him down on the bed and exploring it with his tongue.  Watson shivered with desire, arching his pelvis as Holmes brushed his nipple; then Holmes began to rub his penis hard, through the woollen material of his trousers.  This was rather too much for the doctor, who was on something of a short fuse.

He flipped the younger man over, feeling a shiver of satisfaction in his gasp of surprise; this was one thing at least, he hadn’t been expecting.  With hurried fingers, he undid the fastening on Holmes’s trousers.  Underneath, he was wearing rather prim white drawers, but the line of his erection was painfully obvious.  Watson’s head felt like it was spinning.  He gently eased the tight material down over the narrow hips, pausing for a moment to admire the sight which met his eyes.  Holmes’s penis was longer and thinner than his own, and felt silky under Watson’s touch.  When he rolled the foreskin rolled back to reveal the pink, glistening head, a strange involuntary sound escaped from Watson’s constricted throat. 

Holmes regarded him expectantly through half-closed eyes, and when Watson finally took him into his mouth, he let out a groan of pure pleasure.  Watson sucked with the same hunger that had characterised his kisses, taking the other man’s member deep to the back of his throat, as though even this was not enough.  Holmes was not very vocal, but shallow breathing, and fingers entwined in his hair were all the encouragement the doctor needed.

After a while, he broke his rhythm and began to bring his tongue gradually lower as he continued to pump Holmes’s cock with his fist.  Eventually he found his goal and began to lick experimentally at the small puckered hole.  Holmes let out a whimper and pushed Watson’s head lower, and the rought treatment only enflamed the doctor more.  He licked with gusto, his tongue exploring inside and out, whilst his moustachios were sending Holmes into a kind of frenzy.  Eventually, his hips bucked and Watson felt the spasms of his penis as he came in Watson’s hand.

“Oh,” he said, and fell back against the pillows.  Then he looked up with ruddy cheeks, his gaze clouded with passion, as Watson knelt over him and furiously worked his own cock to the finish, spilling his seed on Holmes’s stomach with a cry of satisfaction.  Then he collapsed beside him on the bed.

They both lay in silence for a while, Holmes staring at the ceiling and Watson with his face in the pillows, wondering what on earth he had just done.  Presently, he felt Holmes get off the bed and return with something in his hands.  He raised his head from the pillow a fraction.  It was a pipe.

“You don’t mind, do you?” said Holmes.

Watson shook his head wordlessly, and Holmes leaned back against the headboard.  He filled the pipe with tobacco and lit it, striking the match on the wallpaper in a careless manner.  Then he inhaled deeply and blew a series of smoke rings into the air above Watson’s head. 

He looked faintly ridiculous, but all the same, Watson felt a sudden rush of affection for this man, whom he had only met a few hours ago and still knew very little about.  He then remembered why he tended to avoid these casual encounters, which he knew were common among men of his kind: he was too easily lost. No matter how sordid the circumstances, physical intimacy always seemed to engage his more tender emotions.

Holmes caught his eye and smiled, and his heart gave an involuntary leap.

“I think I’m going to enjoy sharing an appartment with you,” Holmes said.

“Is it wise?” Watson asked.  He was slightly troubled by the fact that Holmes remained something of an enigma.  Earlier he seemed to indicate that their encounter was nothing more than a practical transaction; something he could fit in neatly between finishing work at the lab and moving house.  But perhaps that was just a ruse.  He was in turns passionate and flippant, and Watson was not entirely sure which was the real Holmes.

“I’m certainly game if you are.  They really are very good rooms,” said Holmes.  “But I should be getting back to Bart’s.  I left all my things at the lab; I didn’t know how long I would be.”  He started to put on his clothes.

“Oh,” said Watson, disappointed.  “I had thought – well – that you might stay to dinner.  We could get to know each other a little better.  There’s a nice place not far from here, Simpsons, you know…”

 Holmes grinned at Watson as he did up his tie.

“You’re rather old-fashioned, aren’t you, Doctor?” he said with a smile.  “But don’t worry; I’m sure there will be plenty of time for all that soon enough.  I must say, I am terribly excited about your proposed study.  It will be delightful to be on the other side of the microscope for once. Au revoir!”

“Good bye,” said Watson, forlornly.

Holmes paused with his hand on the doorknob, before turning and looking at Watson again.

“Thank you, by the way,” he said, a little sheepishly.

Watson blinked, a little surprised.  “It was my pleasure,” he said, politely.

“I could tell,” said Holmes, and they both giggled like schoolboys. 

Holmes sighed and looked at Watson for a few moments more, and Watson was almost sure he was about to change his mind about leaving so soon.  But then a cloud passed across his face, and it was almost as if a mechanical trap closed somewhere behind his eyes.

“Well then,” he said.  “Good bye.”  And he was gone.

Watson had noticed this sometimes; it was as though Holmes was continually keeping himself in check, reigning himself in whenever his natural enthusiasms shone through too strongly.  He sat for a few moments, staring at the closed door.  He was sure he had just been used in the most shameful way, yet somehow he felt happy about it.  He seemed to be on the brink of something truly extraordinary, although whether it would lead to happiness or heartbreak, only time would tell.


End file.
